


Kiss It.

by RedStarFiction



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 13:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction





	Kiss It.

Mickey was trashed. Not regular trashed but the kind where you wave your hand in front of your face and can’t tell how many fingers you’re holding up or even whose fuckin’ hand it is in the first place.

  
“Take one more bite. C’mon, you gotta eat or you’re gonna be sick.”

  
Mickey squinted, closing one eye and fixing the slice of pepperoni pizza Ian was holding out in front of his face. The wind was bitterly cold and the cheese on the pizza was firming as it hovered before his eyes.

  
“Nah, I ain’t gonna puke and I don’t want that shit. If I’m gonna eat anything it’s gonna be your sweet, ginger ass!”

  
“One more bite of this and then maybe I’ll let you have that for dessert?”

  
Ian smiled and ran his fingertips through Mickey’s black hair gently, almost reverently.

  
“Promise?”

  
“Do I have to?”  
Ian retorted and laughed as Mickey seized the slice and crammed the entire thing into his mouth, chewing openly. If anyone else had done it it would have been gross but somehow even with an overly stuffed mouthful of food, Mickey was beautiful to Ian.

  
“Alright tough guy, I ate your fuckin’ pizza, I ain’t gonna puke, get your ass inside and get in bed.”

  
“Make me.”  
Ian grinned and retreated teasingly as Mickey advanced toward him.

  
“You want me to put you over my shoulder? Fuckin’ carry you, huh?”

  
“You couldn’t lift me.”

  
Mickey bit his lip and rolled his shoulders, he loved it when Ian challenged him – pushed him – it made him feel alive and brought out a playfulness that Mickey had never known he had until he got with Gallagher.

  
“I’m gonna carry you inside but fuck you if you think I’m carryin’ you all the way to the bed like a fuckin’ princess or some shit. I’m dumping you on the couch and havin’ you right there.”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
Ian stopped dodging away and came in close, ducking his head and meeting Mickey’s lips hard enough to leave bruises. Their tongues gelled and Ian closed his eyes, revelling in the taste and nearness of his man.

  
“I love you.”

  
He whispered, the words curling up in the air between them in a visible mist before getting lost in the cold Chicago night air.

  
“I fuckin’ love you too. You know that right?”

  
Ian nodded, the words were intense and urgent, vital and real just like everything about Mickey. He opened his eyes and found Mickey looking at him in a way that was entirely without humour, almost fierce.

  
“You OK?”

  
“Yeah. I was just thinking that one day, one day I’m gonna marry you.”

  
“Fuck off!”  
Ian laughed but Mickey caught his chin and held his gaze

  
“I mean it, Ian. I’m gonna fuckin’ marry you.”

  
Ian blinked and swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

  
“You proposing to me? Now?”

  
“What? No! Fuck!”  
Mickey shook his head and stepped back, looking down at his filthy parka and ripped jeans, his hands not exactly dirty but definitely not clean

  
“No, I wouldn’t do that. Not like this. I’m a fuckin’ mess and you deserve … I don’t know … fuckin’ … roses! Or some romantic shit anyway. I don’t know but you deserve better than this. No, man, I ain’t proposing to you now.”

  
The look of disappointment on Ian’s face made Mickey’s stomach clench and he once again stepped in close, this time reaching up to cup Ian’s face between his hands

  
“But I will, one day.”

  
“Promise?”

  
“Do I fuckin’ have to?”  
Mickey smiled gently, echoing Ian’s earlier words. Ian gave him a small smile in return, some of the sorrow leaving his face as he contemplated the future.

  
“OK.”

  
“Good. Now …”  
Mickey ducked down, like a boxer, faster than Ian had given him credit for and with a huge grunt of effort, lifted Ian up over his shoulder and only staggered a little as he stood.

  
“Fuck! You’re a heavy son of a bitch!”

  
“Drop me I’ll kick your ass!”  
Ian laughed and Mickey rolled his eyes before slapping his boyfriends butt, hard.

  
“Shut up, dipshit. You ain’t kicking shit.”

  
Mickey navigated the steps up to the house as best he could, one arm wrapped tightly around the back of Ian’s legs, the other gripping the flimsy hand railing for balance. He kicked the door open, almost toppling them both down the steps again but regained his balance with a triumphant grunt.

  
True to his word he dumped Ian on the sofa and began stripping off his coat as he stood over the younger man.

  
“Told you I could fuckin’ carry you.”

  
“Yeah, you sure showed me.”

  
Ian unbuckled his belt and kicked his jeans off before tugging his sweater and shirt off and casting them aside.

  
“Come here.”  
He beckoned, one finger crooked and like the tide responding to the pull of the moon, Mickey found himself drawn into Gallagher’s embrace, their legs twining and lips touching with familiar intimacy.

  
“Feel that.”  
Ian pressed Mickey’s hand to the seat of his boxers

  
“That where I hit you?”  
Mickey asked quietly, massaging the warm spot beneath his fingers.

  
“Yeah. You like it?”

  
“I do.”  
Mickey’s heart was hammering in his chest and the alcohol in his system seemed to evaporate as every one of his senses heightened and honed in on Ian.

  
“Kiss it for me.”

  
Mickey eased the fabric away from Ian’s flesh and knelt beside the sofa. He kissed the blushing skin gently, his lips barely grazing the soft curve of Ian’s rear and then tentatively, almost questioningly, ran his tongue over it. Ian made a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan and arched his back. Mickey slipped his hand beneath Ian’s raised hips and smiled, squeezing hard, then gently working his wrist back and forth, his teeth grazing the swell of Ian’s ass, biting gently at the joining of his thigh and then a little harder into the firm muscle of his leg.   
He heard Ian gasp his name and saw the muscles of his back flex and ripple as the shudder of his orgasm ran through his body and he sat back grinning.

  
“My turn tough guy.”

  
Ian looked up from beneath the fiery sweep of his red hair, a sleepy smile on his lips

  
“You bet it is.”

  
Mickey lay back on the floor and closed his eyes, blissfully happy and completely at peace with the world, waiting for Ian to work his magic and send fireworks skittering across his vision and bring him as close to God as Mickey Milkovich ever wanted to get.


End file.
